


Filling The Indent

by ElectricMarrow



Category: Galaxy Run
Genre: F/F, My First AO3 Post, My OC - Freeform, Pills, Shingles, help me, my story, oof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 05:12:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15381390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElectricMarrow/pseuds/ElectricMarrow
Summary: a little thing for a friend... my OCs before the actual storyline.





	Filling The Indent

Aril Seech was spread out on the floor of her apartment, cheek against the carpet. The air conditioner whirred from above on the windowsill, giving noise to an otherwise silent scene.  
The Markeenian stared up at the ceiling with her one good eye, studying the stains on the white plaster. This was the epitome of exhaustion on Markeen; its worn-down citizens losing any motivation in the heat.  
/Depression/.  
That was the word. The slow-coming, silent-creeping disease that made it's way into the houses; no citizen innoculated. Depression: a sunken place, a hollow in an object's surface; a sunken place, a hollow in your heart, your energy.  
Aril turned so her back was against the ragged carpeting, chewing on her lip. She could feel the sore, persistent pain in her torso creeping through her body, that patchy purple rash digging into her skin. The shingles of the skin: not roofing, for sure, not shelter.  
A job that paid just enough; a house that was essentially a shack; no healthcare plan. Only ever tumbling over the line of the bare minimum.  
Aril had to get off this planet. Had to get away from the tight, greasy capitalist fist of that godforsaken Eternal.  
/Maheen Lucrum./  
What a douchebag. What a jackass. What a pig-headed, mush-brained, no-conscience... motherfucker. Surely being alive for all those millennia should guarantee some softening of heart?  
None. Nothing but pure ice. A machine- no, machines were kinder.  
Thinking his name brought bile to her throat.  
Aril sighed, watching a pair of wingers* dart from surface to surface.  
This place was a nightmare, for sure, but-  
A knocking at the door: four short beats, and a drawn-out  
" Aarrrrill..."  
Gram Birc. Aril sat up suddenly, turning to the door. Why was she here?  
"Coming," Aril managed to stammer out, stumbling to the door and turning the lock. She pulled the handle, and there stood her fellow Markeenian, four-eyed and four-armed, grinning maniacally and gripping a paper sack.  
"Ah, what good news! You haven't melted!" Gram proclaimed, skirting past Aril and into the den.  
"I'm surprised too." Aril shut the door, watching the short Markeenian do her shimmying walk across the carpeting.  
"I mean, did ya /see/ the weather report for this week? We're hitting over a hundred! Now, that's some real-"  
"Gram." Aril looked at her friend pointedly, arms crossed.  
"Yee-es?"  
"Why are you here in person?" A simple vid-call would have worked to display any face-to-face message.  
Gram blinked all four eyes in feigned innocence. "I haven't a clue what you're talking about."  
"Really?" Aril stared her down, watching the beads of sweat form on Gram's forehead.  
"Mm-hmm..." Gram glanced around nervously, anxious in the presence of Aril's silence.  
"Gram." Firmer tone.  
"Yes?"  
"/Gram/." Scarier this time.  
"Y-yes?"  
"What's in the bag." A commandment, not a question.  
Gram shuffled her feet awkwardly. "Oh, fffffine. Kimon-from-the-pharms-district-told-me-you-were-denied-and-so-I-snitched-this-and-brought-it-here-" she paused, gasping for breath: Aril's time to interject.  
"You snitched /what/? Kimon said /what/? Gram, I don't know what you're playing at, but-"  
"Oh, shut up, Aril!" Gram thrust the paper sack at the other Markeenian. Aril caught it nimbly, slowly pulling the brown edges apart and looking down at its contents in awe.  
"Gram, what-"  
"I know you were denied for your medicine refill- I checked online, to make sure, so you can't scold me for recklessness, ha!- and I maybe sorta persuaded the pharmacists** to look away when I stole your pills."  
The bag slipped from Aril's hand. "Oh, Gram- Gram- for Solas's*** sake, why'd you do it? They could- what if someone rats you out- you're already being watched, and-" her words caught in her throat, and Gram reached out to steady her.  
"C'mon, Aril, something like this? It's nothing for a brave ol' Revolution member like me. Helping out one of my buddies in need?  
Piece of cake!"  
Aril's voice cracked. "Dammit, Gram..."  
"Shh, shh. Don't cry. We don't want you getting minerals all over the floor."  
"Yeah, yeah, you're, uh, you're right." Aril reached down to pick up the bag. "But, I mean- this is. Wow, this is a really something. Even for you."  
"I pride myself on unpredictability."  
"You've outdone yourself." Aril smiled weakly. "What's the favor I have to do to repay you?"  
"Now, technically, by good business standards, I should be charging you, but..."  
Gram stood on tip-toes, tapping her lips. "You're a special customer."  
Aril's face darkened, but she leaned down to plant a solid kiss on Gram. They stood for a moment, silent and intimate, before Gram turned her face to whisper into the other's ear:  
"Also, I need you to hack into the security systems and let me out tomorrow."  
"Yeah, /that's/ the favor I was looking for."

______________________

The next day, Gram would recruit four shipwrecked bounty hunters into the Revolution, tangling her and Aril further into a timeless war than they could imagine. They made out more, of course.

**Author's Note:**

> *A winger is the Markeenian equivalent of a housefly.
> 
> **Gram paid 220 Units, which is about 49 American dollars. It would be more, but these are good Revolution pharmacists.
> 
> **Solas is a Markeenian sun god. And also a Dragon Age character, apparently.
> 
>  
> 
> No, I don't know why it would indent. Don't harass me.


End file.
